“I’d suggest the ‘Juliette rule’ from now on.”

“Which is?”

“You pick a lane and stick to it. You don’t change lane, ever. Forget about exiting or turning, you just go straight. It doesn’t matter if don’t end up where you needed to go, you don’t change lane. Last time I changed lane was during my driving test.”

There are plenty of long traffic jams around Ilha de Santa Catarina—dozens of cars suddenly deciding to pull off at a viewpoint, accident, people getting drinks and food from roadside vendors, the entire island heading to the same beach on a sunny day, etc. When we’re stuck, I usually pluck my eyebrows, go for a walk—Feng picks me up down the road or up the hill—or take pictures because roads are entertaining. No matter where you go on the island, you can be sure you’ll spot a truck full of coconut, delivery drivers speeding between cars, people biking uphill carrying beach chairs and entire families walking along the freeway (… why?).

I didn’t know at one point I’ll end up taking a picture of a tire.

A flat tire.

We were coming back from Pântonal del Sur and discussing plans for the evening. Feng was going to drop me off in Centro. We were almost there, but it was Friday evening and there was a lot of traffic. Feng had to exit but he did it too late or whatever.

The car hit a median on my side.

I heard a loud thump.

Fortunately, Feng managed to maintain control and come back into his lane. I mean, he is a bit of a control freak—it’s one of his flaws, but when you’re on the freeway with a damaged car, control is a true skill I appreciate.

“You do have your seat belt on, right?” I asked Mark very calmly.

“Yes.”

“Relax Feng. Go slow. We’ll make it.”

“Lost the tire.”

“I know.”

I tend to worry too much about things that could happen (… yes, my own flaw) but I tend to stay calm when something bad actually happens. Go figure.

Feng slowed down gradually and carefully pulled off to the side of the road. We weren’t far from the apartment but it was still a few blocks uphill, he wouldn’t have made it.

I opened my door to check the damage.

“Car is fine, not a scratch. Just a flat tire.”

“Gotta change the tire.”

I’ve heard Feng saying many things over the years—let’s bus from Mexico to Brazil, let’s go to Patagonia, etc.—but never “let’s change a tire.” I heard myself saying “sure” but I was thinking “wait… does he know how to change a tire?”

I wasn’t going to question it. I mean, obviously, the car wasn’t drivable.

The first step went just fine. Trunk was opened, floor liner was lifted, spare tire was extracted and placed on the ground. We found the jack as well.

But just opening the jack proved challenging. A security guard from the building in front of us ran across the parking lot to offer his help.

“Posso ajudar?”

“Tudo bom, thank you!”

Feng unfolded the jack and placed it under the car. I did my part explaining Mark this was to lift the car—Mark looked at me and just said “everybody knows that mommy, it’s a jack.”

The security guard showed up again. “You put it upside down!”

We lifted the car. Now we just had to remove the lug nuts.

“Shit, I can’t find the wrench.”

“It’s gotta be in the trunk. Otherwise, what’s the point of having a spare tire?”

Another guy parked behind us and offered help. Flat tires or car issues in general are a magnet for guys.

I explained the problem and he tried his own wrench, but it was too big.

“I’ll go ask the gas station if they have a wrench. It’s just around the corner. Taking Mark with me.”

I asked for a chave but they didn’t have one. “It’s gotta be in the car, it’s mandatory!”

I walked back to the car. “Okay, let’s check again, maybe we missed it… ah, what’s that?”

Stupid wrench was hung on the right side of the trunk.

Feng attempted to loosen the lug nuts. “It’s stuck.”

“Let me try…”

Two minutes later, the security showed up again. “May I?”

Took him two seconds to remove all four of them. “How many times have you done that?” I asked, quite amazed. He shrugged modestly.

We changed the tire and we were just done when the police showed up and nicely asked if we needed help. “All good, seriously!”

I sent Mark to give a bit of money to the security guard and we drove to the apartment.

“I’m gonna have to go to the rent-a-car agency,” Feng sighed. “Can’t drive with a spare tire and we need to sort things out. I can go alone.”

“Are you crazy? I’m coming with you. I’m just dying to explain in Portuguese what happened…”

We took a quick shower, gathered all documents and drove to the airport.

The employee shrugged when I explained what happened. “Go fill up and we’ll get you another car.”

“Like, right now?”

“Yep. Small damage, we won’t charge you for it.”

Phew. And also, really? “Small damage”? Man, I don’t want to know what other drivers do to their rented car…

So we lost a few hours last Friday night but we consider ourselves lucky.

Plus now, I think I could change a tire if needed.